


Don Giovanni

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Character Study, Goethe Related Raillery, M/M, Operas, hidden affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian - as a sophisticated demon of taste - wishes to escort his young master to the opera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don Giovanni

The rapturous harmony, detailing the rush and majesty of the Vltava crescendoed into glorious splendor, evoking a grandeur far beyond the palaces, proud castles, and stately ruins of Smetana’s homeland. As the composition— _allegro commodo non agitato_ —vanished in sudden triumph, Ciel Phantomhive broke from his revere and returned to the documents at hand. Paperwork was a tedious—though necessary—sin. As an avaricious creature himself, Ciel saw wealth—a prize most people would martyr themselves for—as the most amusing measure of success. 

Beside him, Sebastian reappeared, having paused the gramophone with an bemused half-smirk that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world and all the sins of man. “My lord.” He bowed courteously. “Is there anything else you should be wanting?” 

“No.” As winter befell England, Ciel saw the price of coal rise and dashed off a piece of correspondence to his representative in Angola to play the market—but discreetly. “Is there any particular reason you’re still here?” He demanded, when Sebastian had not moved an inch. 

“There is a small matter I wish to discuss with you my lord.” 

A preliminary order of 700 cubic meters of marble were to extracted and imported to France and this year’s diamond yield was above moderation—200,000 carats was a fine starting sum. He smoothed down the fresh sheet of parchment. “What is it.” Ciel demanded, voice clipped and cold as the dark blue of his fountain pen etched ink onto a piece of heavy creme paper. 

“Your upcoming birthday soiree.” 

“An event that has been seized from my control at your urging. Whatever complications that have emanated are your concern—not mine.” The sharp steel of his pen scratched across the letterhead with more force than necessary. 

The demon had the audacity to laugh. “Indeed, young master. Despite what you might think, the acuity of my mind has withstood the denigration of humanity.” 

“You mean _reveled_ in the denigration of humanity.” 

“All the same.” Sebastian continued airily. “I find it curious you would not wish to partake in the ceremony of your ascension.” 

Ciel glanced up, sapphire meeting ruby. “Do you.” He countered, derisive and cruel. 

“Indeed. It is a reminder of your present situation and the expectation you now hold against all the world. Your catalyst of power.” 

“Despotism is a fact of life.” Ciel leaned back, fingers interlaced and tucked beneath his chin. A phantom of dark cobalt silk against the rich mahogany of his armchair. “To willfully blind oneself against the circumstances of life is to live with one hand tied behind your back.” He locked eyes with the demon. “To expect kindness simply because it is preached is like expecting bread from the cupboards of the hungry.” 

Sebastian’s smile grew wider and from the uneven angle below, Ciel could see the sharp canines he hid from polite society. “A very pragmatic view, young master.” He practically purred, that pitiful bit of reassurance aggravating Ciel like a dagger to his side. 

Did the monster expect him to abandon his revenge midway simply because of a single date? Only those with Falstaff’s character would dare to be so fickle, obfuscating between the necessities and luxuries of life. Those wanting to live as habitually as they could, hoarding borrowed time and silently hoping for a forgotten miracle to save their pathetic souls. 

Ciel knew better. There was to be no salvation for people like him; he had bargained away the only immortal possession that would mean something after death. 

He exhaled. “Have I satisfied your curiosity or would you be interested in plundering through my memories like a merry widow?” 

Reassured, the demon bowed. “Apologies, my lord. I had thought it unavoidable and merely wished to remind you of your forthcoming duties.” 

_Forthcoming duties?_ “Have you gone mad? There is nothing scheduled on the fourteenth.” 

“Is there not?” His eyes widened with mock innocence. “Ah forgive me then, my lord. I had only thought it right to mention that the opera was in town. The _Italian_ opera.” 

Ciel suppressed a sigh and with great difficulty, withheld his aggravation at the butler’s vague disclosure. _Perhaps I ought to have him impounded at the local shelter. His disposition is irritating enough to be related to the animal he loathes most._

Adjusting his position on the plush velvet armchair, Ciel debated on whether or not to expel Sebastian from his presence before deciding against such a hasty action. In Sebastian’s more precarious moods, he had a tendency to becoming dreadfully entertaining—sulkily carrying out Ciel’s orders with reluctant perfection. 

“What did you hope to accomplish my reiterating such a banal topic of newsworthy disinterest?” 

“I had it in mind that you, young master, were quite fond of the opera and as they were putting on a production writ by Herr Mozart, well—I simply thought you would enjoy the interlude.” 

Ciel’s lip twitched. “Alone at the opera.” 

Carmine eyes—fiendishly red and maliciously amused—glittered like a ruby beneath the pale Austrian sun. “Indeed young master.” He agreed with a bloodless smile. 

_And here the game begins._ “But you would no doubt accompany me.” Ciel knew his avocation all too well. The butler enjoyed taunting him with the possibility of repose before snatching it away, just as quickly. 

Sebastian deferred his smile with an elegant shake of his head. “If you do not desire my company, it shall be restrained. I would never intrude upon the accomplishments of a prodigy.” 

His words hung in the air—heavy, like a snow drenched cloak. His tone of voice was different today Ciel realized. It was softer—almost genuinely amendable with a touch of affliction that came from the expectation of denial. 

The words left Ciel’s mouth slowly, with a foreign flavor. “You _want_ to accompany me?” 

“I wish to remain in your presence for a few strange hours with nothing but the symphony of Mozart surrounding us.” 

Ciel sneered. “As equals I presume.” 

“Though that suggestion is novel and by all means complimented by the patriots of the smaller isle, I would never suggest such an affront to your character.” He sounded almost insulted by this preposed breech of etiquette. “My duties as both servant and protector grant me moveable discretion but such discretion comes at your will—and _yours_ alone.” 

Ciel was half aghast and half enthralled by such a bizarre and perplexing notion. “I did not realize demons were so musical—or multicultural.” 

“Your influence is far-reaching, young master.” He gave Ciel an indulgent smile and remained standing, elegant and poised, in the midst of his study. 

_Only he would be arrogant enough to ply me with such maudlin praise._ Though the thought was derisive to the last, Ciel was surprised to find a thread of favor woven into his silent words of contemplation. 

In fact, his silence lingered for so long that Sebastian—so haughty in his perceived distinction over humanity—seemed to waver, ever so slightly. With regal, dignified consent, the butler bowed—expression blank, eyes downcast. “I have overstepped my bounds.” 

_He is feigning emotion. Demons cannot feel the way humans feel. The depth of his heart is as black and monstrous as a drunkard’s cup—_

“Sebastian.” 

The demon paused, two steps away from the heavy walnut egress, one hand outstretched to take the handle. 

“ _Sebastian._ ” 

At the sound his name, twice repeated, the demon turned around fully and acknowledged his young master. 

“This is an order—procure two tickets to the stage production of Mozart’s opera a week and a day from now on December fourteenth.” His words, carelessly spoken, hid the altercation of his affections and he quickly resumed work on his various subsidiaries, eyes fixed on the various papers surrounding him. It was with steadfast determination that he refused to acknowledge the strange new intimacy that now bloomed in his chest.

 

* * *

 

In the end they saw a brilliant production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s _Don Giovanni_ —a masterpiece of music. The subject, however, was too near his young master’s heart to truly be appreciated and so, guised under the dim theater lights and in a private box all of their own, Sebastian proceeded to repent for his folly in every way his talented tongue knew how. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- The composition Ciel is listening to in the beginning is a symphonic poem composed by Bedřich Smetana titled ‘Vltava’. (It’s better known by its German name, ‘Die Moldau’.) 
> 
> \- Falstaff: references Sir John Falstaff from William Shakespeare’s ‘Henry IV, Part 1’ and ‘Part 2’. He is a boorish buffoon of a character whose capricious nature and cowardly disposition provided comedic relief in Shakespeare’s two historical epics. 
> 
> \- Don Giovanni: written by Mozart and first performed in Prague in the year 1787 for the Archduchess Maria Theresa, niece of the Holy Roman Emperor. Don Giovanni is a fictional libertine and seducer whose crimes catch up to him in the form of the Commendatore, father to one of the girl’s Giovanni may or may not have raped. The Commendatore challenges Giovanni to a duel but is killed by the latter; in Act II, the Commendatore comes back to life as a vengeful basilisk of stone and retribution who orders Giovanni to repent for his sins. When Giovanni refuses, he is engulfed by flames and taken to hell. 
> 
> A/N: So. Sebastian probably knew Ciel wouldn’t like this cheery little play centered around hell and revenge but I think he got what he wanted out of it. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated :)


End file.
